


the leather jacket

by jarynw02



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Bokuaka - Freeform, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Week 2020, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tattoo, akaashi keiji has no chill, akaashi walked away from bokuto years ago, also lol bokuto listens to disney music to hype, bokuto is best boi, but like fluff, flangst, model/photoshoot, no volleyball in this one, reunited, well ok past volleyball mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarynw02/pseuds/jarynw02
Summary: Akaashi Keiji walks into the photoshoot that will determine the rest of his career only to find the high school boyfriend he thought he'd left behind would be his model.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112
Collections: Bokuto Week 2020, Pyroprude to Elisosly





	the leather jacket

**Author's Note:**

> BOKUTO WEEK YAY!!!!

Akaashi Keiji started his day choking down black coffee. 

Normally, when under pressure, he preferred tea. Maybe a pleasant new blend from the shop a few blocks from his apartment, further into the depths of downtown. The transfer student manning the barista counter always had the most eccentric suggestions and they’d always been entertaining, to say the least, while the conversation reminded him of his college days. Staying in Tokyo had been a smart choice for him; The bustling city kept him on his toes and provided him the education and the connections toward his dream job. 

His dream job that also threatened his health and sanity on a regular basis. 

He waded through the crowded sidewalks on a particularly damp morning, brushing past others in a mixture of business wear and street fashion, grateful that he’d worn the extra overcoat as the lid of his to go coffee popped off  _ again _ . The overcast tone set for the day didn’t seem to impact the foot traffic as he dodged another middle aged man while fastening his cup back together and taking a long, scalding sip. 

Just as the fog of steam faded from his glasses, his company’s building came into view, sprouting from the concrete earth to an intimidating height. With a flash of his ID from his coat pocket, he passed through the turnstiles of security and took another chug of his too strong bean water before pressing the button for the first elevator. 

Today was a big deal. 

Today was Keiji’s first solo on an advanced contract ad. He’d partnered with the brand, paid his dues in the form of zoom meetings and had already spent hours shuffling through the samples they’d mailed him earlier in the week. There was only one man on the schedule, which was another source of his anxiety that had managed to pass the bar from eclectic tea binging at home to chugging coffee on the elevator fifteen minutes before he was due in makeup. If there was only one model for an ad of this size, then they were typically a larger name. 

Large enough that the contracted brand felt they didn’t need to show the world anything but this one model to get all the attention they needed. 

Which, for Keiji, meant  _ pressure _ . 

The elevator doors opened and he set off in long strides to his boss’ office to check in, completely bypassing his own. He’d spend most of his work day on set today anyway. When he passed the assistant’s desk with a nod of clearance from her, Keiji was still going over his coordinations he’d need to make with the photographer. It was Meisi though and so far he’d agreed with her vision, so hopefully everything would go--

“Akaashi-san!” Mitsuki said, her voice bright despite the bland, empty office she kept meticulously clean. She opened her hands over her desk, welcoming him into the space and he tried to settle the jitters in his hand clasped tight around his coffee, drip stains falling on all sides. “Come on, come on. Sit.”

“No time,” Keiji answered with a polite dip of his head. “Just came to check in and make sure nothing’s changed.”

Mitsuki reclined in her chair, blonde hair contrasting against the deep red leather behind her. “Nope. You’re all set. Apparently, you’re in for a treat.”

Already stepping back into the hall with a plan of his exact steps to lead him to the shoot site upstairs, Keiji froze in the doorway. “A treat?”

“We’ve never shot this model before and rumor has it, he puts on a show. Should be a fun first time for you,” she said, flourishing her words with a wink. 

Keiji cringed and withheld his mentally muttered  _ fuck.  _ He opened his mouth to respond, but he ended up fluttering it open and shut too many times and Mitsuki knew him well enough by now that he could just walk away without any repercussions. 

Tossing a quick,  _ I’m late,  _ behind him, he fled the room. 

He finished his coffee on the brief elevator ride up another two floors and went over outfit options in his head for the thousandth time. Depending on the model’s frame and aesthetic he’d most likely be going for the corduroy two piece, a graphic tee beneath, or possibly the race track bottoms with the slouchy button up if he was thin. The sample sizes had been all over the place and the brand had demanded to choose its model in their contract with Keiji’s company so they knew what they were getting. Apparently that meant they either wanted someone in some  _ tight  _ clothing or for their ‘fits to hang over the thinner frame of a typical model-- the more likely option. 

The door into the studio swung open as he passed through it and he dropped his coffee cup into the recycling bin on his way to makeup. Taisuke saddled up beside him almost instantly, clipboard in hand and narrow eyes clinging to him as she matched his steps. 

“Meisi is prepping her equipment and already running some minor test shots with the new backdrop in place and your model is in makeup, about to be finished,” she rattled off, glancing back down at her papers once or twice as they rounded a corner. 

Keiji nodded idly. “Great. Can you bring me some coffee possibly?” 

“Of course!” she chirped, disappearing once more and not for the first time he thanked the forces of the universe that sent Taisuke to the same line of work as Keiji. She was a true blessing. There hadn’t been anyone he’d worked with so well since… well, high school volleyball. 

The thought stung. 

On a whim, he detoured to find Meisi. She flitted around the set, eyes distant and focused on the invisible imperfections of the all white backdrop set before her tripod. A case of lenses was sprawled open beneath it, a can of an energy drink tucked into an empty compartment with its top popped. 

“Ready?” Keiji asked, not waiting for her to fix her attention on him. He was well aware that time would never come. 

“Hm?” she answered, reaching out a finger to a spot on the flawless background as if to swipe away a spec of dust. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. This one’s gonna be fun, don’t you think?”

Keiji frowned. “I guess.”

This, of all things, made Meisi turn, her chin dipped into her shoulder as she leveled him with deep blue eyes. “You haven’t met him yet, then?”

For fuck’s sake, if she was talking about this model too, Keiji was surely going to  _ hate  _ him. If his personality was big enough to have touched both Meisi and Mitsuki then he should have asked Taisuke to bring him the whole damn pot of coffee and possibly start drafting his resignation letter. He loved his job, of course, but there was only so much one man could take.

“No,” he said. “I haven’t.”

Meisi grinned a tight lipped grin and turned back to her backdrop. “You should.”

“I will,” Keiji nearly snapped-- and, really, he needed to calm down and get his head out of his ass before he fucked up some of his best work relationships all over some bitter coffee he  _ hated  _ and his nerves over this shoot. Keiji knew what he was doing. As long as there was no major curveball thrown his way, everything would be fine. 

Finally, he made for the makeup stations. The soft hum of some hip hop music bounced off the bare white walls in an erratic, thumping beat that muffled like it was from someone’s phone. Izumi was his makeup artist for today and hadn’t played music during any other time they’d worked together so it was likely the model’s which wasn’t exactly frowned upon, but wasn’t really welcomed either. 

Another thing to add to the growing list of reasons for Keiji’s oncoming headache. 

If this guy was going to be ornery and difficult to manage then the next few hours of Keiji’s life were going to be barely tolerable. He hadn’t built his career up for this moment to prove himself as capable all on his own as an independent agent just for one rowdy ass model to decide to steal the show with his massive ego and derail all of his plans. 

But his stewing began to quiet the closer he came to the makeup room, the riot in his mind waning away while his steps unconsciously slowed. Izumi’s laugh echoed off the walls as the music changed to a goofy Disney song and a voice rose in defense of his  _ impeccable taste _ and Keiji’s shoes started to drag along the tile. When he came to the last turn into the wide open cut into the wall of the space set aside for makeup stations, he raised a hand to settle himself against something sturdy. 

He… knew that voice. 

“Mulan is a timeless classic!” the voice of steel said surely. “Who doesn’t get pumped to this song, hm? Tell me? Don’t you feel more inspired?!” 

Izumi chuckled again, giggled, really. “Oh, I feel like I can do anything, for sure!” 

“I mean, one man can only fuck bitches and get money for so long before they have to get down to business, you know?”

“Oh my god!” Izumi shouted and Keiji could hear her cover her mouth with a hand, stifling her laughs. “Alright, alright! I give. Your playlist is top shelf.”

“That’s all I’m saying,” the voice said back, smooth and rich and exactly how Keiji remembered it. “Now, wanna hear me rap?”

“Oh, spare me!” 

“No, no! I’m good, promise. Lemme find it…” 

This could  _ not  _ be happening. 

Of all the possible obstacles that could have been thrown in the way of this project,  _ this  _ was the one thing that could truly be insurmountable. Keiji tightened his fingers against the wall, letting himself fall into it gently, pressing his back to the cool drywall. Flashes of a past long left behind fluttered through the peripherals of his mind, fighting against the walls he’d set up against them in a desperate, naive plea to forget all about those lost days. 

“Keiji?” 

His blood stilled, but it was only Taisuke, a new to go cup of coffee in her hands, it’s steady stream of steam spiraling from the lip of the lid serving as a means of distraction, centering him. 

But then there were fingers of a strong hand curling around the wall beside him and a head of silver-black hair peeking out. 

“Keiji?!”

Keiji attempted to swallow, his lower lip twitching, lost. “Bokuto-san.”

A still, pregnant moment passed between them all, Taisuke shifted away subtly, retracting the extended coffee. 

And then Bokuto was flying around the wall, massive arms slipping around Keiji’s waist and scooping him up in a rib-crushing hug-- much to Keiji’s and both the bystanders’ horror. 

“Keiji!” Bokuto cheered, his voice a deep hum in his chest as it pressed against Keiji’s and he tried to organize himself enough to break free or at least respond, hug him back or  _ something  _ but there was a shock in Keiji’s bones rioting against the surreality of the moment. “It’s been so long,” Bokuto finally mused, lowering Keiji back to the ground and bringing his hands up to Keiji’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you.”

Like a dam breaking, Keiji clamped back the rush such tender words brought forward. 

Why was Bokuto always like this? Why did he have to ignore all the bad things and surge straight to the heart of every situation, picking out only what he felt like observing? There were… so many other factors left unsaid. 

But the sting of tears deep beneath Keiji’s eyes forced him back into professional mode, reminding him that today was  _ important _ . 

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” he said quietly, letting his eyes flicker over his old friend’s face with a fondness he didn’t dare touch with a ten foot pole. “I’m your shoot coordinator today.”

Bokuto seemed completely unbothered by Keiji’s cool approach, though they had once had years to grow accustomed to one another, so perhaps the effect had never worn off. He looped an arm over Keiji’s shoulders, drawing him to his side with a bright smile that had Taisuke tightening her lips and widening her eyes. Only then did Keiji notice Bokuto was, in fact, naked aside from a thin back of black boxer shorts clinging to his well-sculpted hips and thighs. 

Great. 

“That’s awesome, Keiji!” Bokuto said, genuine pride shining from his golden eyes that somehow retained their mirth over the years despite the way maturity had seemed to harden… every other part of Bokuto’s body. “I’ll make sure it’s my best shoot ever! Gotta make you proud, ya know?”

Despite himself, Keiji huffed a laugh. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.” He caught a flash of Izumi before she turned back to her vanity to tidy and put away her things as he faced Taisuke. “Can you take my coffee to Meisi and make sure she’s ready?”

“Of course!” Taisuke said too quickly, her voice too high and her following bow too polite and awkward before she scurried away. Izumi didn’t seem to trust her words as she emerged from the makeup room with her bag at her side, dipping her chin at the two men. 

Bokuto grinned at her retreat. “I hope we work together again sometime!” 

Izumi paused at the doorway and turned back with a smile. “Me too,” she nearly whispered, a low blush on her cheeks as she left them alone. 

Keiji sighed, doing his best not to acknowledge that he was still pressed against Bokuto’s shirtless side and beneath his heavily muscled arm. “Now that I know you’re the model, I’ll have to change a few of my planned looks, but I think that I’ve got a good idea for one in particular,” he somewhat rambled, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the wall beside them and avoiding the flash of ink on Bokuto’s chest that sizzled on the edges of his awareness. 

Bokuto loosened his hold, his arm falling away as he faced Keiji more fully. “Sounds great. Um, Keiji?”

He sucked in a breath and looked up at his old friend. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

And then Bokuto’s calloused fingers were dancing along his temple, tucking his stray, unkempt hair back behind his ear and tracing along the end of his glasses. 

“You used to call me Koutarou.”

Something cracked in the air, something Keiji had no intention of investigating, but he let himself study Bokuto’s face for a breath, then two. The sharp angles of his face had matured over time, the face of a well seasoned model with smooth skin and bright eyes beneath perfectly poised hair that had hardly changed. Though the last time that Keiji saw it, it was down and mussed from sleep. 

He blinked the moment away. “We’re running late…”  _ Bokuto-san _ . But he bit his tongue and moved toward the studio. 

Bokuto followed him, his presence a towering, powerful thing at his back despite the fact that their height difference wasn’t  _ that  _ outrageous. Bokuto was broad for a model, his shoulders well built and showcasing the curve down to his narrow hips in a way that typically made him more commercial than the brand he was currently contracted for. Though, now knowing that Bokuto was the subject, Keiji could tell the brand had wanted a sex appeal present with the samples sent over. Everything would either fit him perfectly, almost tailored, or tight enough to rip with little effort. 

But that was the point. 

Keiji should have predicted this. 

Bokuto was silent as they joined Meisi and Taisuke, the former fondly welcoming Bokuto back after they’d apparently met upon Meisi’s arrival before setup. Keiji dove into the rack of clothes, sifting through them until he pulled out a crisp pair of black slacks and the simple white tee that likely cost as much as his next three utility bills. Bokuto was there suddenly, accepting the offered clothes with an ease of a practiced model, quickly fitting himself and waiting for the next round of accessories and shoes to be passed over and once Keiji was done clawing through materials, he stepped back to scrutinize his creation. 

Bokuto closed the clasp of his watch and rolled his neck, already apparently slipping into the persona needed for the job and Keiji silently marveled at the low glaze in his golden eyes. If his heart rate sped up a little at the way he tilted up his chin, practically looking down his nose at Keiji, well that was neither here nor there. 

After adding a blazer to use as nothing more than a prop, Keiji waved him over to Meisi. The two of them exchanged a few whispers while Keiji stepped back to the wall where Taisuke had taken cover, finally accepting his coffee from the assistant. Then Meisi laughed and something sharp crawled through Keiji’s throat before Meisi pulled out her phone and let Bokuto scroll through it before music suddenly poured out of the small speakers, echoing through the easy acoustics of the room. The two of them grinned in triumph before they got to work. 

Watching Bokuto quite literally  _ shine  _ under the studio lights was… incredible. 

And unnerving. 

All the buried emotions Keiji had been more than happy to store away out of sight and mind and pretend were never there in the first place slowly bubbled to the surface until they were banging at the door of Keiji’s consciousness until he had to snap himself out of a daze to alter Bokuto’s outfit for the next set of posings. This time in a crisp suit with a purposefully faded graphic tee beneath, Bokuto set to work, fully aware of all the angles of his body in an intimate way that reminded Keiji that once upon a time, he, too, knew those angles and curves well. 

Bokuto moved in a way that could portray honesty with a gentleness in his eyes or a ferocity with a tilt of his head. He could broaden himself, seize an entire frame like he could step right out of the photo and into someone’s life to take it for his own and never let them go, or he could bend and capture his audience with a kind spirit that entwined with their appreciative eyes and make them feel safe and at home by his side. 

It was a mesmerizing performance only stilted by the quirky playlist that would make Meisi and Bokuto both pause and burst into a duet of  _ I’m off the deeeeep end, watch as I dive innnn!  _ or some other nonsense every fifteen minutes or so. 

When time came for the final outfit, Keiji felt a slow, creep of dread fuzzing his thoughts and slowing his steps as he moved back over to the rack of samples. Since realizing Bokuto was his model all he’d really wanted was for this to end-- to get away from him and return to his normal, non-Bokuto obsessed life that he’d built far away from the high school memories he’d put behind him. But now, knowing it was actually coming to a close and that Bokuto would slip away from him again… 

He didn’t want to see him go. 

It was a stupid, selfish thought. 

Bokuto changed into the dark jeans in smooth movements, shirking the most recent tee at the same time he rose to full height while Keiji thumbed through his options. His fingers landed on the soft leather of a jacket easily the price of a used car and he bit his lip. 

Maybe Keiji simply  _ was  _ a selfish being. 

He plucked the leather jacket from it’s hanger and Bokuto took it from him and tossed it back to slip his arms through its sleeves in one fell move, but, for the first time, Keiji let himself look at the blur of ink on Bokuto’s chest as his muscles bent and glided beneath his taut, tanned skin. Before Keiji had managed to take a breath, to break the simultaneous chill and heat that coiled through him, Bokuto was stepping back under the light of the cameras with a soft sheen of sweat across his brow that only added to the visceral grit of his outfit. 

Keiji stood frozen in place as he watched Bokuto grip the soft leather, pulling it aside to showcase the sharp edged owl in mid, furious flight spread across his bare chest in precisely needled ink. The song changed in the background to something low and hypnotic, a stark change from the general hip hop they’d been listening to. It thrummed with the heat curling inside Keiji, his lost and buried feelings fully on the surface now and quaking beneath his skin and too shallow breaths. 

Bokuto raised his chin in a defiant gesture, his lids low and challenging until he locked eyes of melted gold onto Keiji and then he slowly arched a thick brow. Keiji’s breath hiccuped almost audibly and a blush warmed its way up his neck and he prayed Bokuto hadn’t noticed.

But a smirking grin tugged across Bokuto’s cheeks and he dragged a hand up behind his head to tug at his neck just as the camera flashed and from one blink to the next Bokuto had channeled all the tension from their momentary staring contest toward the camera. 

Keiji tried to keep himself from remembering seeing Bokuto in that same pose in bed. 

Without the jacket. 

Flustered, he grabbed for his now cold coffee and chugged it, grateful Taisuke had the sense to add some cream and sugar like he’d nobly forgone this morning. Meisi wrapped up the rest of the shoot with little guidance needed from Keiji and when Bokuto relinquished the clothes to Taisuke who dutifully hung them back the way they’d come, Keiji faltered. 

“You can keep it.”

Bokuto paused, standing boldly in only his boxers with one hand still on the leather jacket halfway handed to Taisuke. “You sure?”

Keiji nodded. “The samples belong to us now. We can do with them what we want.”

_ And I want to see you wear it again.  _

Something had shifted in the air between them as Bokuto’s smile was less of the beam he was known for and more subdued, sultry and forgiving. 

“Thanks, Keiji.”

And like all the years of setting the memories aside had vanished in the wind of the last few hours, Keiji found himself wanting to answer,  _ Anything for you, Koutarou. _

But he was at work and still with Meisi and Taisuke and, on top of that, he was likely just going insane in the overwhelming presence that was Bokuto Koutarou. 

It was an effect he remembered well. 

Bokuto accepted the jacket and made for the makeup room where he’d likely left his belongings, including whatever clothes he’d come into the building wearing, leaving Keiji and his employees in his wake. 

A pause filled the air until, at the same time, Meisi and Taisuke said:

“You  _ know  _ him?!”

“He wants to fuck the shit out of you!” 

The three of them cleaned up when Bokuto left and after a quick meeting with Mitsuki that included avoiding her knowing glare that almost dared him to doubt that she knew something had happened during the shoot, he was descending in the elevators for an unusually early departure from work. Seeing Bokuto had clearly shaken him and he was finally settled with admitting that to himself. 

What he did  _ not  _ want to admit to himself was what the small nudging at the back of his mind dared to call the truth: he shouldn’t have run away all those years ago. He shouldn’t have cut him off, cut Bokuto out of his life to run from his lover’s future and their impending future together that he’d been so sure at the time would lead them in separate directions and eventually tear them apart. He’d thought he was saving them years of pain and conflict and ruining one another only to end up on separate sides of the same world. 

And yet here they were, years after volleyball and stolen kisses in after hours practices and hidden hands held beneath blankets on the bus rides to away games and weekends spent in a dorm room bed for months and months of Keiji’s senior year. 

The weight of his potential mistake was on his shoulders. 

He’d wanted to save them… but had he only torn them apart when they could have lasted? Had he destroyed the most precious thing in his life for no reason? 

Because he was afraid?

The elevator chimed as it hit the bottom floor and Keiji tightened his hold on his discarded coat, thrown over his arms and pressed into his middle as he moved to the front door and stepped out onto the busy city street. 

“There you are.”

Keiji froze.

Bokuto pushed off the pillar a few paces away, a heavy smile tugging at his lips as he approached, now wearing the leather jacket Keiji’d given him. 

Keiji blinked, his brows frowning softly.

“...you waited for me?” 

Golden eyes scanned over Keiji’s face and then Bokuto raised a thumb to brush across his jaw with a gentleness that he couldn’t help but lean into. 

“Of course I did.”


End file.
